Always on the Run
by MrsLJG5
Summary: Meet Suzanne McNamara Gibbs, wife of NCIS Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She works for the President of the United States as an aide. The following explains how she obtained her position and the adventures inside the White House. Disclaimer: Suzanne is an original character created into the NCIS Franchise.
1. Introduction

"Good Afternoon, Suzanne speaking..."

Suzanne's appointment with the President was at 2:00 pm. It was intentional on his part—impromptu interview to decide if she were a qualified candidate in regard to physical appearance. She received a call while at MTAC, requesting her presence at the White House within the next hour.

She returned from a lunch outing with Abby. The two pondered what would happen come the new year. Suzanne agreed they couldn't work in the same building. It was early October, about a week before the wedding.

"Really?" Suzanne asked, an inquisitive look crossed her face as she listened. "This isn't a joke?"

"No, it is not." The caller chuckled. Suzanne glanced at the directory line. It was a White House telephone number across the screen.

"Right now, I am at work…" Suzanne replied. "And I am not presentable...for the President."

"It is an order from the President of the United States, not a request, ma'am." The caller's voice was stern, direct. With lightheartedness, she ended the phone call.

"We'll see you at 2 o'clock, Miss McNamara and ask for Mrs. Person."

Suzanne's eyes rolled side-to-side and her brow narrowed as a sign of still processing the telephone call. _'Why would the President want to see me?'_

* * *

It was 1:20. She walked into the restroom and stood in front of the mirror, examining her clothing. It was "Business First Monday," meaning her dark blue pin-striped pants, a coordinating shirt and necktie to offset the matching vest. While her clothing was workplace proper, her shoes—gray sneakers with blue stitching—and argyle socks stretched the look from professional to eccentric. The look was hers, representing reverence to the traditional but at a personal comfort level.

_'I'm about to walk to the White House with a backpack, dressed as Annie Hall…_' she mumbled, turning around in the mirror.

"I want an individual who is articulate but not stuffy…someone original." He shared with Linda Person, one of his personal aides. She was the maximum professional, serving with several administrations. In her 28 year tenure, Linda noticed changes in attitudes, beliefs, and ethics within the Presidential staff. Many staffers left, heads held high and ventured into larger venues. Others left in disgrace due to professional conduct unbecoming to the Office of the President. Her place was constant, the stabilizing influence for detecting raw, undeveloped talent.

"I'm leaving this choice in your hands."

"Yes, Mr. President."

As he walked back into the Oval Office, Suzanne had the credentials to enter the White House, with backpack and all. She flashed her identification badge and signed her name into the visitor's log. It was 10 minutes before 2 p.m.

"Linda: there's a kooky kid on her way to see the President. The name is McNamara." Another associate announced the arrival via interoffice intercom.

She knocked softly and waited for an acknowledgement to enter.

"Good Afternoon. I am Suzanne McNamara." She extended her right hand, gripped firmly and paused to continue.

"Linda Person; pleased to meet you." She motioned for Suzanne to take a seat.

"I understand the President would like to see me?" She whispered.

"You're his 2 o'clock."

There was an awkward moment of silence. Suzanne remained uncertain as to the nature of the visit.

"Mrs. Person, am I in some sort of trouble?"

"Maybe." She chuckled at the socks and sneakers when Suzanne crossed her legs and continued typing on the computer. "And please call me Linda."

"Yes, ma'am."

_McNamara: firm handshake, eye contact, smile. _

"Suzanne, I understand you work with MTAC."

"For five years…" She responded. "I worked with food services and was recently transferred to the legal department."

_Legal department—MTAC/NCIS._

"Interesting." Linda continued typing, focusing her attention on the screen. "Working through school?"

"Yes, ma'am. I went to Georgetown."

_M.P.P. and J.D.: Georgetown—University Scholar confirmed. Personality matches flamboyant dress (Business Casual). _

Linda's attention focused on Suzanne.

"The President has an opening within the Executive Office. Your name was mentioned." Linda smiled.

"I'm here for an interview?" Suzanne gasped. "I'm not dressed; I'm not ready."

"You'll be fine." Linda convinced in a soft tone, smiled at the young applicant. "As we've been conversing, I've been chatting with the President, giving my first impression of you."

The President of the United States emerged from the Oval Office. Suzanne quickly stood to her feet, thinking it was an appropriate gesture of respect. She remained quiet, even a little more subdued than the intimate, talkative person. He was 'just average'—not like my Jethro, Suzanne thought. The President was attractive, well-kept. He was slender in statue with average height and built. His dark hair silvered since taking the Presidential oath five years earlier. Despite the shorter haircut, it remained clear. The dark bags and circles were prominent around his face, showing the look of worry and concern. That eye sparkle he possessed during the first campaign was long gone, only a distant memory. Still, the President was charming, intelligent and nurturing—those same characteristics that placed him into office. It was obvious that political office consumed David Owens' mind and spirit. He promised to 'stir it up' in the Executive Branch once reelected. His promise to the American public: new faces representing the 'fabric of America.' The President interviewed several candidates from his staff, even asked other advisers for recommendations.

"Linda?"

"Mr. President: this is Suzanne McNamara."

Suzanne immediately extended her right hand, giving a nice, firm handshake.

"You...You've got a grip, Ms. McNamara." The President commented.

"My late father was Army." Suzanne shared. "He taught me not to give a wimpy handshake."

"Let's have a seat in my office." Suzanne was motionless, uncertain to go **before** or **after** the President. She waited patiently. Finally, the Commander-in-Chief mentioned "down the hall, and the chair at the center of the desk." Suzanne walked first as the President lagged behind. He closed the door and sat in his chair.

"Ms. McNamara, I read your recent paper from Georgetown Review about my administration."

"Oh." She distinctly remembered questioning, with personal examples and primary documents, the administration's lack of women working for the Executive Branch.

"Well, I should apologize for suggesting your administration contradicts your campaign platform."

"You're apologizing?"

"Oh, I'm not sorry for what I stated; that is true." She crossed her legs. His eyes showed surprise.

"I learned from my late father to be a straight-shooter." She revealed. "He's the one responsible for teaching me 'say what I mean and mean what I say.'"

"How so?" The President sat in his chair, laid back with ease. "Well, what else is wrong with me, Ms. McNamara?"

Suzanne began. "Well, Your travel staff has you looking…unprepared. You're stumbling through speeches, reciting outdated data, and shall I say, your scheduler has problems with proper pacing. 5:00 pm in the Presidential world means 4:30—right there, reviewing your notes. You are breathing, not breezing through. Whoever's helping you is hindering you, and it's ludicrous. Shall I go on?"

"Please do…" The President crossed his hands.

"Right there!" Suzanne indicated, pointing at his body language. "Why are you on the defensive?"

The conversation stopped momentarily. Suzanne continued with her thoughts.

"Mr. President, you're a brilliant man but you're challenged. I watch your speeches. I've read your speeches. You deliver speeches but you struggle to inspire people."

"I think you've said enough." The President interrupted.

Suzanne thought, 'Good job: anger the Commander-in-Chief, your greatest boss…'

"Mr. President, I rather tell you what I see than lie to you."

"Look, the Secretary of the Navy bragged about you and mentioned I need you on my staff."

Suzanne laughed in disbelief.

"Really?! I'm sure this administration cannot handle me, Sir, with all due respect. Obviously, I fouled up a job interview with the President of the United States." Suzanne said. "If I play my cards right, I might keep my job with MTAC."

Suzanne stood from her seat, shook his hand firmly.

"Well, thank you for the opportunity, Mr. President. Have a wonderful day."

"Don't leave, Ms. McNamara." The President did not look up from the paperwork. Suzanne stood patiently, her black backpack dangling slightly from the ground.

"I need to think of the best way I can use your talents." The President stood up and examined Suzanne's outfit, from her neatly coiled brown curly hair, business attire, to her quirky choices in footwear.

As Suzanne left the office, she glanced down while walking and accidentally bumped into the First Lady of the United States.

"Oh, I am so sorry, ma'am!" Suzanne's eyes quickly moved from left to right. The notebook spilled onto the floor. Catherine, or Kay Owens, simply smiled.

"I guess I'm two for two today…"

"_You're _Suzanne McNamara?" Mrs. Owens noticed the MTAC badge around her neck, McNamara in bold caps and Suzanne in smaller print.

"Yes ma'am." Her voice quivered. Kay reached down and assisted Suzanne with the paper.

"It's okay, dear." Kay laughed, placing a hand on Suzanne's shoulder for reassurance. "I'm not the 'Dragon Lady' many of the press portray and believe. Relax."

Catherine Kincaid Owens: nicknamed Kay with a K. The nickname was from years ago, a derivative from her initials "C.K." She was a dynamic figure in Presidential politics alongside her husband. A lawyer like Suzanne, Kay studied at Harvard, met the President in Constitutional Law class. They parted ways, only to rejoin forces years later. As she prepared a publication about loose or strict interpretation of the Constitution, David viewed Kay in a different light. The two complimented another—strictly professional David versus introspective Catherine. She had the ability to interpret others, to decide their true intentions.

Suzanne relaxed her shoulders only slightly. She politely smiled, still embarrassed, standing eye level as she passed the papers back to the First Lady.

"Madame Secretary from MTAC has said wonderful things about you."

"I do appreciate it, ma'am." Suzanne's tension eventually eased. The full smile returned. "I don't know her very well. Obviously, she's been watching me!"

"How would you take care of the President?" Kay asked.

"I..." Suzanne began, paused and then resumed her answer. "I would make sure his schedule was lighter so he'd spend more time with his family."

"Good answer…" Linda whispered, continued typing. Suzanne glanced at the typist, smiled. She continued with the point.

"I would remind the President the importance for both work and play."

"Do you take the advice?" Kay asked.

"Not until now. I'm getting married this weekend, and both of us are workaholics." Suzanne chuckled, smile growing wider. "I will eventually learn as well."

Suzanne shook Mrs. Owens' hand, placed her left hand within the greeting.

"It was nice bumping into you." The two parted, with the First Lady headed to the Oval office. Suzanne waved at Linda, covering her face in mortification.

"Take care, Suzanne." Linda said, laughing softly.

"I just ran into Suzanne McNamara." Kay announced, leaning over for a brief kiss on the cheek. The President remained behind his desk, reading Suzanne's personnel file from MTAC. "We literally ran into one another! Very nice, but she's a little on the shy side."

"She just criticized my time management, my political beliefs and my speeches…on paper and in my face, Kay!" He passed the Law Review writing to Kay.

"She thinks I can do better by hiring her."

"Hire her." Kay declared, sitting across from her husband.

"She seems to blend in with the staff, gets along with Linda, which rarely happens at first meeting..." Kay read the text. "And…she made really good points in the writing."

"Hmm…" The President glanced once more. "I never considered that perspective."

The President paused.

"A female body, huh?"

"A female body." Kay answered, nodded. "She's a sweet girl. I'm not worried."

* * *

Suzanne was quiet about her whereabouts. Only Leon Vance and her immediate supervisor knew of the interview. They were called as character references. Others simply assumed she was in the building, maybe in archives mulling through decades old paperwork. Before Suzanne could settle back into her desk chair at MTAC, her land line trilled.

"Good Afternoon, Miss McNamara."

"It's called a lateral transfer, because you work for the Federal Government." The President paused. "You'll get a bump in salary, obviously..."

Suzanne listened and remained quiet, her eyes glazed in disbelief.

"Suzanne?"

"Oh, I apologize." She muttered.

"And I need someone like you on my staff; I'm hiring **_you_**. Linda is sending you the paperwork."

You look the part, but I really _hate_ those shoes." He grinned.

"You'll grow to love them." Suzanne replied, grinned. "It's part of my charm."

"I take that response as a **_yes_**_, I'll work for you, Mr. President?_"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"You're smiling."

She was!

The President chuckled.

"We'll be in touch."

That was how Suzanne McNamara became the Presidential Body of the United States. Her new career was to begin on January 2.


	2. Trot

Jethro was happier, less tight-jawed since Suzanne's segue into his life. The same analysis applied to the equally disciplined, high energy former cafeteria employee and now Georgetown Law graduate. She learned weeks ago that she passed the Bar exam and was scheduled in late December to an oath ceremony at the state capital. The wedding was days away, and the two began moving some of her items into Gibbs' home. They shared dinner and only dinner. Suzanne continued going home, her home, until they were married.

Suzanne decided to keep her home in the Atlas District of Near Northeast. "It can become a guest home for some of our relatives." Suzanne suggested.

"Not a bad idea." Gibbs said.

"_But_…I have fantastic news." Suzanne finished chewing her food before speaking. "The White House hired yours truly as a body!" She passed the contract to Gibbs and he looked at Suzanne's signature-Suzanne D. McNamara—on paperwork submitted to her next position.

"I will travel, research for, and go with the President." She announced. "I am also in charge of managing his schedule. I begin January 2."

"Basically, you're the President's companion." Gibbs smirked, sipping his glass of water. "Not a bad gig."

"I didn't know I was a candidate for the place."

"Well, that's all you." Gibbs reassured that his position, his networking was not a reason in the hiring process. "They probably know of your work at Georgetown and with MTAC."

"Maybe." Suzanne shrugged her shoulders.

"Definitely." There was a momentary lapse in conversation. "Have you decided…?" Gibbs pointed at the contract. "…Your professional name?"

"I decided…that at work, I am McNamara—**_Mrs._** McNamara."

Jethro looked sad. She embraced Gibbs, looked into his eyes and played with his silver hair.

"At least they're acknowledging I'm married."

"Times have changed. Traditions haven't, Sugar." Gibbs said.

"Are we fighting?"

"A discussion." Gibbs replied. "I want to talk about what happens after Saturday."

Suzanne sensed the tension in his voice. She became equally tense.

"Are you going to wear a wedding band after we marry?" Suzanne asked.

"I plan to." Gibbs answered, voice raised. "I **_want_** people to know I am married."

"For 30 years, I've been Suzanne McNamara. I built my academic and professional reputation with that name, my father's name." She paused and continued.

"Look, when I'm home…I am Suzanne, I am Susie, and I am 'Sugar'. On your arm, I am Mrs. Gibbs, Suzanne Gibbs. Don't you ever worry I'm not proud of having you as my husband." She continued stroking his silver hair. She gave a short peck on the lips.

"Can you understand that?"

"I have to understand." Gibbs smiled and stroked Suzanne's cheek. "It doesn't mean I like it…"

"I know about those supposed 'gender' roles—what men and women are supposed to do. It cost me a few relationships." She sighed. "I hope it's not going to cost me a marriage."

Gibbs pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket and placed it in her hand. She opened the package and noticed a pair of diamond earrings.

"Something new? For the old tale of marriage?"

"They're beautiful, Jethro." Suzanne took them out of the package and placed them in her ears.

"It was originally your graduation present." Gibbs mentioned. "Thought about you…beautiful piece of work after pressure…"

"Thank you." She smiled. Suzanne reached in her bag and presented a baby blue silk tie for her husband to be.

"I noticed it in the store with Abby last month. I thought you would like it for Saturday…that is, if we're still getting married."

"We're still getting married, Suzanne." Gibbs wrapped her in his arms, chuckled. "Meet you at the altar?"

* * *

Suzanne Gibbs, nee McNamara, led her academic and personal life with the slogan, 'always on the run.' Since her early 20's, she never understood the word idle, as in rest. The mantra was not different once she graduated from Georgetown Law and worked her first job—Office of the President. The passion for excellent work remained.

_**I can't believe I'm working at the White House! **_

Suzanne returned on January 2. The general paperwork and tour was weeks earlier when she accepted the job. The office protocol, the first day with others began January 2. She walked into the door, taking it all in! She dressed for the part—black pant suit, flat Mary Jane slip on shoes. Too stuffy, she first commented but Suzanne realized: her job responsibility was to both look and do the tasks associated with the President of the United States. It was so much activity! People passed along the corridors; some were friendly, others focused on their personal agenda. The first few minutes Suzanne absorbed the energy.

Matching, casual sneakers might be okay to wear around the office, perhaps in the car. A female staffer whisked by, impeccably dressed while wearing the proper attire but very stylish sneakers.

'_Always on the Run.'_ That seemed to be the motto of the White House.

While making her way to the West Wing and the Office of Scheduling and Advancement, she remembered the wisdom from Sol and Susan McNamara: _In bringing up children, spend on them half as much money and twice as much time._

Suzanne was the youngest and spent more time with the two. Parents learned from Simon and JR: each child with an individual personality. Suzanne was the "why" child, the inquisitive, very intelligent but stubborn child. That innate curiosity, perseverance served her well with her new career. The McNamara core remained with her; it stayed in both personal and professional endeavors.

_Life isn't a popularity contest._

_Say please and thank you._

_Always say 'Sir' and 'Ma'am' when you're addressing your elders._

_No choices: either take it or leave it._

_When you teach your children, you teach your children's children. _

"Why are you so quiet now? You weren't during the interview…" The President commented as Suzanne walked alongside Linda.

"Good Morning, Linda. Miss McNamara." He grinned.

"Good Morning, Mr. President." They both replied.

A typical day with the President of the United States was event scheduling with at least 3 to 6 months in advance. After all, her job description coincided with the Department of Scheduling and Advance and some responsibilities with the Chief of Staff. She was called the "Body Woman," the President's companion. It was a title Claudia wanted, expected but did not earn. Already, it was tension in the air. The two met in the aisle while Linda showed Suzanne the floor layout.

"Hi, I'm Suzanne." She smiled, extended her hand for a handshake, which was not returned. The other walked to her desk.

"Okay…"

"That's Claudia, one of the Presidential Aides." Linda clarified, whispered in her ear. "She's evil."

That was a first for Suzanne—rudeness at the workplace.

"Claudia!" The same stern voice Suzanne heard, followed by a mellowed tone. Claudia returned to the aisle.

"This is Suzanne, the President's new assistant. Please make her feel welcomed."

"Hello." Reluctantly, Claudia shook her hand.

"Hi." Suzanne's mood was not too enthusiastic.

"Okay, you can retract your claws, Claudia." Linda muttered.

One immediate request, once she arrived, was to work with others within the Scheduling Office.

"I really don't need an office." She continuously muttered. "I travel with the President and work _with_ my colleagues in scheduling and advance."

Linda Person was the Director and enjoyed the unsullied attitude.

"It will be a pleasure to work alongside you, dear." She shook her head in agreement, flashed a smile of concurrence.

"Oh, joy!" A sarcastic Claudia muttered aloud.

With her wish respected, Suzanne claimed the desk closest to the corridor near the Oval Office. She had little to place on her desk. After all, she learned from previous experiences to travel lightly. She educated herself to keep all work-related items in a black backpack-lightly and firmly packed, weighing less than 40 lbs.

She fled from Guatemalan guerrillas with a backpack of belongings, depending on common sense, the word of others. Suzanne rarely shared the details of that last leg of her Peace Corps assignment, except it fueled her wish to study law. From the past, she valued how events changed at a moment's notice and learned how to adjust. The only mementos she kept visible in her workplace were two items. First was a small portrait of her and Jethro during their honeymoon. The other was a corkboard with various quotes and notes.

The first order of business was to merely see the President's likes and dislikes. He respected good manners but established personal relationships with each employee. He called Linda "P" and Claudia "C;" not original monikers. It was not so rigid where every moment seemed tense-filled. All commented positively on his dedication to the office **and** his sense of humor behind the camera.

Her daddy's voice crept into her thoughts about the first impression. Her colleague's nasty attitude bothered her.

"_Be damned if someone takes away your power…"_ –a nugget of wisdom from Solomon McNamara, Jr. Suzanne remembered.

The memory warranted a comment woman-to-woman.

She was deliberately loud enough for Linda to overhear but soft when speaking to Claudia. She walked to her desk. The move was not to intimidate but to empower. The lean frame she used to an advantage.

"I just want to let you know, Claudia…" Suzanne leaned closer, stared into Claudia's eye. She removed her eyeglasses and placed them into her pocket. The smile disappeared from her face.

"_**You **__**do **__**not **__**want to cross me**__. I am not the one. Got it?"_

"Got it!" Claudia responded, smirked. "You have **some** backbone."

The two smiled. Suzanne backed to an appropriate conversational distance, returning to the desk.

"Do not let the clothes or my smile fool you. I will **knock** your lights out."

Linda chuckled.

_"Suzanne, may I please have coffee?"_

"If you'll excuse me…" Suzanne left the desk and walked towards the President's library.

"There's a new queen…" Linda was hysterically laughing at the new employee's attitude, humming along while typing documents. Claudia, speechless, turned toward the computer monitor.

* * *

"_We're going to spend more time with one another than we do with our own spouses." _

The latter was true. The President's comment remained in her mind after work. Their working relationship could make interesting historical footnotes. Exciting times, she thought. From graduate student to White House employee! Her upcoming adventures alone would garner interested parties from a lawyer-based, even Presidential history perspective.

_The world __**is**__ my oyster, isn't it, Daddy? _

For Suzanne, newly married, she wanted to enjoy her husband's company. At the end of the workday, Suzanne was proud. No bloodshed, she thought. She learned several names, and she stood up for herself when dealing with an antagonist. Excited about her first day at her first career-job, Suzanne shared the news with Jethro.

"I told her I'm not the one." Suzanne chewed her salad thoroughly.

"It's about setting a tone." Jethro agreed, chuckled. "I'm proud of you, Susie."

"He mentioned the time we'll spend together—The President and I."

Jethro nodded. "It looks like I'll travel a bit."

"Well, it comes with the territory." Jethro reached for Suzanne's hand, squeezed as a sign of assurance. "But I know you're coming **home**—our home."

* * *

"I need to think of a work name for you."

The origin of Suzanne's nickname was merely coincidental. The name came to the President on his way to a secret shopping expedition in Alexandria, along the GW Parkway in a stylish SUV. Dressed in a gray with blue pinstriped suit, matching jacket and corresponding color oxford button shirt, Suzanne donned on her prescription Ray Ban sunshades. The President wore casual clothing—chinos, collared shirt and v-neck sweater. Suzanne suggested the transitional glasses, ones that became sunglasses in the light and a Nationals baseball cap—to throw off the public. There were few pictures of the President in glasses and fewer in a baseball cap, slightly covering his famous furred brow.

The two walked together in the parking lot and into the store. The group blended into the crowd. So far, so good, Suzanne thought. A familiar song played once they walked inside, and he asked if anyone called her 'Susie Q' as a nickname.

"_Susie Q? " _

"My husband calls me Susie." She answered. The two walked around the store, blending in well. Suzanne picked up stapler groceries—milk, bread, dog food, coffee.

"I guess** Susie** is out of the question…too intimate." The two chuckled. "I can hear your husband…_'he calls you what?!'"_ There was a pause in the conversation. He glanced at her left hand, noticing the thin gold wedding band with the engagement ring.

"Tell me about your husband, McNamara."

Suzanne gave little information, except his name and his place-NCIS. She smiled when she spoke of Jethro. She shared with the President a picture of her and Gibbs during their honeymoon in Hawaii.

"When did you get married?" The President asked. "You were engaged when we had the interview."

"October 15th." Suzanne responded, smiled. "It's been two months."

"When you've done over 20 years, come and talk to me." He said with a smile. The President was happily married, not pretending for political gain. He and the First Lady had a realistic marriage. "I'd do it all again."

The President's bio, available via the official website, spoke highly of Catherine, or "Kay" as he called her, and their four children—twins Robert and Matthew daughters Emily, and Jessica. He took pictures on his Blackberry, glanced at them from time to time.

"They grow up so fast." He sighed. "Kay and I just began our family…now, look at them!" The boys were 13; Emily was 10 and Jessica was 6, just starting Kindergarten. He showed various poses—official and casual. He boasted about his family, an indicator to Suzanne that he was not self-absorbed. Rather, the President of the United States was a happily married family man. There were family pet names for the kids—the boys, Robbie and Matt. "Em" was the shortened form for his oldest daughter. Jessie, he chuckled was the "Rough Rider," or Double R. In an intimate portrait, Double R was catching and throwing footballs with her brothers. Suzanne chuckled.

"I was like that with my brothers." She commented, smiled.

"I'd like to think I have another _Suzanne McNamara_ on my hands."

"Mr. President…?" Suzanne gently reminded to focus on the task at hand—enjoying a day in public without hearing his official title.

"_I like 'Q' for a nickname. You know, James Bond had his boss named Q."_

The second initial stuck; Q. It was a perfect handle for security detail, referring to the aide as "Query." The Commander-in-Chief had a very distinctive speaking voice. Their conversation was soft.

"_Q was a man."_ Suzanne replied, checking off items from a paper list while pushing the shopping cart. _"M was the female predecessor, the head of MI-6." _

"_Any reason you're wearing shades in the store?"_

"_Migraines." Suzanne shared. "Sometimes the bright lights trigger migraine headaches." _

She picked up various items, asking the President if he wanted the item. He nodded either yes or no. Suzanne learned he enjoyed the occasional sweets, particularly brownies.

"_For now on, you are Q for Query. Any questions about the President will be directed to 'Q.'" _

"_I'll answer to it, Mr. President." _

The two walked through a checkout, remaining undetected. Unbelievable: in the afternoon, the President of the United States and his aide safely shopped at a local store, unrecognized. It was a test for Suzanne, to decide whether she could make the President blend into public without detection.

"Mr. President: why did we come here?" Suzanne asked. It dawned on her once she placed the groceries into the car that it was all her own household needs, except for the brownies.

"Thought you needed the company." He opened the container, popped a brownie in his mouth. "Hey, thanks for the brownies! Kay won't let me have any!"

Suzanne grinned and realized she got "punked" by the President!

* * *

Suzanne learned during training that the President preferred to begin the day with calisthenics. When needed, Suzanne, sometimes, was also included in the personal schedule. His exercise regimen was mixed, sometimes a 3 on 3 basketball game and other days spent in the weight room. She did not take part in the 3 on 3 tournaments. Rather, she worked in the office. Exercise may begin or end the day, so she learned to keep workout clothes with her, as the routine changed often. Suzanne exercised at her own pace, being present for company.

Before the end of a work day, the President peeped in the office, inquiring the 3 mile run he wanted for the morning.

"The detail will go with you tomorrow morning, Sir, at 05:30." Suzanne continued typing, reading over notes on her computer.

"Oh, I know you can run 3 miles." The President encouraged.

"I know this is not part of my pay grade." She laughed.

"It most certainly is." The President replied. "Besides, I may think of something spectacular during our run, Q. I need you to help formulate an idea."

She arrived home after making a stop to the athletic store. Suzanne wore sneakers but the casual kind without shock absorbers for running.

"Hi, Honey." Suzanne tossed her work satchel on the floor, began with a step towards the bedroom.

"Hi. What's that?" Jethro asked, kissing her on the cheek. His question was the large shopping bag.

"Running clothes; you never know what to expect with the POTUS." Suzanne replied. She talked while getting situated.

"He wants to run 3 miles tomorrow…with me!"

Jethro chuckled. "When was the last time you did a run?"

"About two months ago." Suzanne replied.

"Think you'll keep up?" Jethro asked. "He's a pretty good runner."

"No, but I'll look the part." Suzanne came downstairs with her well-worn running attire but the new sneakers.

"You're welcome to join me on a jog." Suzanne placed her arms around his waist, nuzzled his neck. "I'm going to break in these shoes."

"_**I'm **_cooking dinner." Jethro answered. "It'll be ready in 20 minutes."

"I'm just running two miles—one up and one back with Fred." She kissed him on the cheek, placed Fred on his lead. "I'll be ready to eat. I promise."

Suzanne and Fred returned about half-hour later. Like promised, she enjoyed the delicious burgers Jethro prepared.

"How's work?" Suzanne asked.

"Oh, keeping the world safe so you and the President can go for a jog tomorrow morning…" Jethro rarely mentioned work after hours.

"I'm more interested in my girl."

Suzanne smiled, complimenting Jethro on the dinner—just the way she liked. She liked baked potatoes with burgers instead of French fries, her burger medium rare with grilled onions.

"You would think the White House would feed you…" Jethro muttered, watching Suzanne eat every morsel.

"I've exercised with the President—works up an appetite." Suzanne offered to clear the dining table but Jethro stopped her.

"You're off dish duty. Take a shower and I'll meet you upstairs." Jethro kissed Suzanne. He jokingly sniffed her neck, a gentle nudge for Suzanne to shower and change. "Maybe we can…exercise."

Suzanne showered while Jethro whistled happily, cleaning the kitchen. Once he made it to the bedroom, Suzanne was asleep!

* * *

The detail arrived at Suzanne's home at 06:00. Donned in her sleek gray and black outfit and positive attitude, Suzanne hopped downstairs. She generally wore her hair open, free-flowing. She slicked it in a ponytail and carried her other belongings in a small bag.

"Alright then…let's do this!" The President was inside the car and chuckled.

"Do you run?"

"I haven't in a while." Suzanne admitted. "I ran cross-country my last two years in college, wasn't very good. I can eke out maybe a 30 minute 3 mile on a good day." She stretched and adjusted once they made it out of the car.

"What about you, Mr. President?"

"Every few _**days.**_" He replied, chuckled. "My personal best is 5 miles on an 8 minute pace. We'll see how you keep up."

'_8 minute pace...?'_ Suzanne thought. _'Oh, good Lord!'_

"You'll improve." He began to lightly jog. "Let's go, Q!" She put on the ear buds, raised the volume to her I-Pod to the loudest level. Today was an old-school day, she mused. A fan of the second English invasion, she put a Culture Club remix. The instrumental to a ballad was the anticipatory set, allowing her to truly embrace the changing physical scenery of Washington. She reminisced about Solomon McNamara, her beloved father.

"**Really, Q?"** The President chuckled.

To hear his adventures one more time, she thought…The first half-mile was the hardest, as she had to readjust her pacing. The beginning was perfect, the synthesizer helping her foot pace. She ran slowly but steadily and felt the brisk wind against her face. It was reminiscent of training, remembering her father's competitive advice, words of comfort. She kept a pace, miraculously, and enjoyed the run. It was what her father emphasized the most: admire the wonders of our world.

"Come on, Slowpoke!"

She heard the President through the headphones. The security detail chuckled alongside the President, watching their new aide. They ran half of the distance scheduled. While the President maintained an 8 minute mile, Suzanne was about two minutes behind. As the song transitioned to the instrumental solos and into the second one, she found a second gear, inching slowly to meet with the boss.

_Cry it's a miracle (miracle)_

_Cry it's a miracle (miracle)_

"I thought you were an Army brat."

"I am. Running long distances are not new for me." The second song had a lighter melody. It was intertwined with the main song.

_I know you miss me, I know you miss me, I know you miss me blind…_

Step by step, Suzanne gained ground. The guitar and bass solo lick allowed her to keep in time with his step. The guitar cranked an electrifying solo as the bassist kept the simple melodic beat.

"Oh, you want to race?" He asked.

"Nah. I got my second wind."

Soon, the President and Suzanne stayed in the same stride for the third mile. As the solo guitar played, Suzanne slowly edged the President, humming the melody. Her head corresponded with the beat. Suzanne, breathing heavier than normal—a reminder to why she stopped smoking cigarettes, maybe an occasional one to relieve the stress—was thankful it was over! Suzanne lunged forward, taking deep breaths. She glanced at her boss.

Successfully, she passed the endurance part of the job.

_**Impressive**_…The President of the United States was impressed.

"She told me to not let you get away."

Kay's advice, to hire the 30-year-old woman, was the unsolicited, politically non-partisan but gender-bias support from the residence.

"Kay said you were the perfect candidate." The President shared. "I'm ready to see what you can do as a scheduler."

The President felt confident. He joked with the detail as they walked into the vehicle.

"Q is somewhat athletic, though her jump shot needs work. Overall, she is discrete, humorous, industrious and from what I've seen, a snazzy dresser." The detail chuckled.

"She'll fit right into the detail, Sir."

Suzanne was ready for the first assignment, a relaxing weekend in Williamsburg and an impromptu visit to her alma mater, the College of William and Mary.

* * *

The briefing before Williamsburg occurred that Thursday afternoon in the President's library. The two further detailed the itinerary, discussing options over coffee. The clock chimed 4:00 pm.

"The kids are coming home from school." The President realized. "That means dinner's at 6:30." Suzanne nodded, continued jotting notes. He suggested, insisted that she stayed for dinner.

"I think our spouses should meet one another." The President recommended. "It's baked chicken with macaroni and cheese—a real treat from the kitchen."

"I'll call Jethro." Suzanne chuckled. She retrieved her cellphone from a jacket pocket, scanned through the directory with the gentle touch of a fingertip. The phone dialed, line trilled.

"_Hi, Sugar." _

Suzanne excused herself into the hallway, cellphone in hand.

"Hi. You're up for dinner?"

"Depends on where." Jethro answered, multitasking—phone cradled in his ear, his hands typing on the keyboard.

"The White House—Private Residence."

"Honey, I'm not dressed." Jethro wore his chinos, polo shirt and dark sports coat. "By the time I get home and dress…"

"There's a dress shirt in your gear…" Suzanne shared. Jethro glanced in his bag, noticing the neatly bound collared shirt and a few ties. "Dinner is at 6:30."

"I guess…I can get myself together." Jethro chuckled.

"Good, because I need a ride home." Suzanne said. Jethro remembered dropping off his wife off to work earlier; her Karmann Ghia was at the mechanics for an inspection.

"Suzanne, I need those numbers from my desk." The President asked.

"I need to get back to work, Jethro." Suzanne walked into the Oval Office, retrieved the file. She began to the library.

"I love you, Susie."

"You too." She replied, handing the file to the President.

"Say it. I'm not hanging up until you do, Suzanne."

"I love you too, Sweetie."

"_Can I have your undivided attention_**, ****please,** _Mrs. McNamara_?" The President moaned. "We have to finish."

Jethro laughed and the line disconnected. The President chuckled. Suzanne shook her head in disbelief.

* * *

"_Mr. President, Mrs. Owens: Special Agent Gibbs."_

Jethro entered the room, also entranced by its grandeur and in disbelief. The navy collared shirt and olive tie complimented another.

"There he is." Suzanne rose from the couch and walked towards Jethro. She greeted him with a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hi, Honey." The two embraced.

"_Really, Suz?"_ Jethro whispered in her ear.

"You cannot say no to the President of the United States, _Jethro_." She muttered in his ear, teeth clenched and eyes wide. She faced the First Couple, smiling.

"This is my husband, Jethro."

"It's good to meet you, Gunny." The President and Jethro shook hands, both with firm grips. "Your wife has…not said a lot about you."

"Susie and I are both private people." He smirked. "Thank you for inviting me."

"This is Catherine, my wife."

"Ma'am." Jethro said, shaking her hand, his grip much softer. "It's a pleasure."

"Please, call me Kay."

"Dinner will be another half-hour." The President announced. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm stealing Suzanne for another 15 minutes."

"How about those two?" Kay and Jethro watched their spouses, sitting in another room and further detailing plans for the trip.

"They're definitely a good team." Jethro replied.

"You have a wonderful wife, Agent Gibbs." Kay complimented. "She has a beautiful face, mind and spirit. Most of all, she's trustworthy."

"That she is." Gibbs nodded, smiled. "I love her very much."

"That's why I wanted for us to meet. It's not all about keeping up appearances in a presidential marriage." Kay directed Gibbs to the couch. The two sat while a worker served coffee.

"Off record, people in the press, even people who work for the White House, may make innuendos about our spouses, try linking them romantically…**but**, I trust Suzanne with all my heart." Jethro nodded as Kay continued.

"Do you trust your husband?"

"If you're asking if I ever suspected anything, I have once or twice." Jethro's eyebrows narrowed. "As a married couple, you have disagreements, you wonder about…outside influences, how much time they spend with each other…but it is wonder, not fact. We've been married 22 years, four children."

"Suzanne describes her relationship with the President as a big brother." Jethro added. "3 on 3 basketball tournaments, running…"

"She's not the type of woman who takes an interest in your family and then screws a knife into your back." Kay sipped delicately from her coffee cup. "I suggested to Kevin to pick Suzanne as an aide. Radical idea—the First Lady suggesting a woman confidant for the President—isn't it? It's about trust, both on and off camera. No secrets."

"What are you two discussing?" The President interrupted, Suzanne walking seconds behind.

"Just life." Kay smiled and Jethro nodded.

"I was about to share with the First Lady my cooking skills." Suzanne immediately noticed the hesitation in Jethro's answers. It was true; his cooking skills improved since marriage. The conversation was much more significant; she sensed it but decided to discuss it later.

"Jethro made Jambalaya last night for dinner." Suzanne placed her hands softly on his shoulders. "It was really good!"

"I am cooking more since Suzanne works odd hours."

"The next time you two come for dinner, you must bring that. I'll make my beignets." Kay suggested.

The dinner bell rang, indicating it was time for dinner.

* * *

Suzanne and Jethro thanked the family for such a great meal and the hospitality. It was unbelievable—dinner with the First Family, though for Suzanne, it was a working environment. It was after 9 when the two drove away, heading home, about 30 minutes away. It was quiet for most of the ride, the two listening to a radio station.

She asked about the earlier conversation between Kay and Jethro, the one the President interrupted.

"We discussed trust in relationships." Jethro admitted as the two drove home. "How she trusts you, the President."

"Do you trust me, Jethro?"

"Of course, I trust you!" He responded. The two stopped at a long light, the main intersection only a few miles from their home. His hand reached for Suzanne's, fingers intertwined in his hand. She gently twirled his wedding band. Lovingly, Jethro gazed into Suzanne's eyes. "You are the love of my life now."

"You're the only one for me, Jethro."

"Come here, Sugar." Jethro reached over and kissed her, eyes closed. His tongue licked her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth a little wider.

The horns honked, jolting the couple to the current; cars waited impatiently to drive. Jethro groaned while Suzanne giggled, tossing her head against the seat. Smiling, he resumed the drive to their home, still holding Suzanne's hand. The First Lady was right, as Jethro reflected on the talk: he trusted Suzanne; she trusted Jethro. Successful, enduring marriages were based on mutual trust. Both were ready for a life that seemed to resemble a marathon—always on the run.

* * *

Williamsburg was Suzanne's hometown, so it was relatively easy to arrange a schedule for the President. Her job had many titles—assistant, personal aide, scheduler, researcher, and friend. She fulfilled each title well, particularly the assistant and scheduler. A few phone calls to the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, the College of William and Mary and the exclusive Kingsmill Resort, the weekend was all arranged. The President wanted to tour the historical grounds and play a round of golf. His speech for the College on Saturday afternoon was set, along with the necessary security measures.

As for friend, confidante of the President, Suzanne remained distant. The position was relatively new, a lot to absorb in four weeks. While she found a common thread with Linda, even Claudia, she struggled with her official job title: 'body woman.'

"You and Jethro look so happy together." The President commented, glancing at the screen picture on her tablet. Quickly, Suzanne touched her front screen. The picture was a computer enhanced carving on a tree—_Jethro loves Suzanne._

It was about 6:30. They reached the resort, settled into the suites.

"You can stay with us at the resort." The President suggested. Suzanne assisted with unpacking toiletries. "Some of the detail will share a room so you can have one."

"My mom lives in Williamsburg; I can stay at the house, save the taxpayers some money." Suzanne nodded no, with a smile on her face.

"How are you going to meet us?"

"There's a '66 Corvair at the house." Suzanne answered. "Electric Blue, new motor, and completely restored." She showed a picture to the President.

"_The Soul Special_…named after my dad." Suzanne smiled with pride. "It was the last car we restored. It's been sitting in the garage for over two years."

"Muscle car…" The President chuckled. "I never pictured you as a car enthusiast."

"There's a lot you do not know about me, Mr. President."

"Such as...?"

She immediately diverted the conversation from her personal to official business.

"I packed your family photos, ordered some brownies from the Carrot Tree." Suzanne pointed to the packages. "My mom ordered them, making sure no one tampered with the recipe, if you know what I mean."

"When it comes to speaking about yourself, you're very modest." Suzanne nodded. "The first intimate picture you show…is a car!"

"That's a car I restored with my daddy."

Her cellphone chimed, the message 'I'm here' appeared.

"That's my ride." She retrieved her bag, heard the single honk. It was her mother, Susan, with the Mercedes.

"I'll swing by 05:30, Mr. President." She placed her bag around the shoulder. "If you need anything, you have my number."

"I need you to stop being so shy." The President requested.

"Good night, Mr. President." Suzanne smiled and waved as she opened and closed the suite door.

* * *

For a test run, the office commented, they wanted to see if Suzanne was a good fit with the President. She was put to the test in Williamsburg and performed very well. There were nights she worked late, sometimes out-of-town, and leaving Fred and Jethro alone. She was a phone call away. A ritual began between Gibbs and Suzanne. They called one another twice a day—once in the morning to begin a day and at the end of the day, share their triumphs and frustrations on the job.

The President spent several days in California, meaning she was preparing to spend the next 10 days in California.

Her range of academic and social experiences intrigued the President. The pant suits, the ties made Suzanne noticeable. Whenever the President was around, she was nearby, always photogenic and with others in the Traveling Corps. The brown hair was perfectly curled, her lips shining with the right amount of balm and lipstick. The black canvas backpack was the centerpiece of her success. It was known as the Body bag, the POTUS lifeline.

Frequently needed items were in the Body bag. Suzanne packed everything for both she and the President with limited space in mind. They traveled light, only 3 bags for the President and two for Suzanne, including the suit bags. Even the items he did not think of, such as thicker socks, an argyle pattern pair of socks, tennis shoes, and even candy Suzanne packed in the BB. She provided the personal touch. Always, she slipped recent pictures of his children into his folder.

"Your remarks are in the portfolio, Sir." She whispered, glossing over his coat with a lint brush once more.

"I scheduled 30 minutes for the speech, 15 for the introduction, questions from the Press Corps. 45 minutes total." She kept in stride with the President.

"Very good. " He remarked as the introduction began.

"Why don't you call your husband while you have a moment, Q?" The President suggested. His nickname served as a Secret Service handle—Quebec. The Commander-in-Chief called Suzanne 'Susie Q' as a nickname, using the latter alphabet. She dialed the number, smiling and waiting patiently for a connection.

"Hi, Cutie." Suzanne began.

"Hi. How's the Boss?"

"Holding his own..." Suzanne began the conversation, whispering in a corner, the Bluetooth device inside her ear. "I slipped those extra figures and implications into his portfolio."

"I am watching ZNN and he sounds good." Gibbs replied. "You packed that shirt?"

"How did you know?" Suzanne laughed. "It was an extra set I had, if we hit turbulence in the air!"

"Nice touch—the powder blue shirt and plaid blue and yellow tie; it goes well with the dark blue suit."

"We're at UCLA in about three hours, thought I'd add Bruin colors into the wardrobe." Suzanne motioned for another aide and distributed the paperwork. "I secured a UCLA sweatshirt, for when he wanted casual. I asked the football team to autograph a ball and a jersey for the kids."

"All in a day's work." Gibbs said. "Oh! Here comes the quote…"

_"…not in good conscience can I sell this 'Bill of Goods' to the American people…" _ It was a direct quote when asked an opinion about legislature.

"Not bad." Gibbs said. "He used your quote."

"The President needs you, Q." The aide walked over. "Something about the bill introduced by Senator Hall."

"Q?" Gibbs repeated.

"Quebec—my handle by the crew, meaning questions, query. Honey, I need to go." Suzanne read her watch, indicating time for a flight. "I need to double check the motorcade."

"I love you, Sweetie." She always ended every conversation with a declaration of love, whether JR, Simon, or Jethro.

"I love you too, Sugar." Gibbs closed his cellphone.

"Suzanne?"

Gibbs nodded. For a moment, Gibbs slipped into comfort as he discussed his personal life while at work.

"She's in Sacramento now." Gibbs shared with Tim and Tony. "Then, it's UCLA and back to Washington...tonight." He smiled. The men nodded. "She's been gone 4 days." Gibbs glanced at the monitor, spotting Suzanne behind the President.

"There she is." Gibbs smiled.

"What does Suzanne call you?" DiNozzo asked.

"None of your business." Gibbs turned his attention back to his computer monitor. "Get back to work!"

Jethro was excited for Suzanne's return from California. It was the first time in their young marriage they were apart. It was also Jethro's first experience as an 'awaiting spouse.' He returned home at 6 to check on Fred. The phone rang while in the backyard; Suzanne was at a military airfield.

"I'm on Air Force One." Suzanne shared. "We're waiting for clearance."

"Tired?"

"We've had a full week." She mumbled. Jethro heard other voices in her cellphone, with Suzanne giving specific instructions, answering pertinent questions for the rest of the staff.

_"Hi, Agent Gibbs! Your wife is Lady One!"_

"That was the President." She replied, chuckling. "He's calling me Lady One because of the way I handled UCLA."

"Hell, he should love it!" Jethro chuckled, both he and Fred returned inside. "I caught the speech on campus. He looked good!"

_"Tell him, Q."_

"Well, we have about two weeks off before our next trip." It meant she was home for two weeks, working semi-regular hours. Of course, she was added for the trip with Damon and Dash, the Secret Service supervisor. "I'll tell you more about it when I get home."

"Do you need a ride?" Jethro asked.

"Actually, Dash is giving me a ride." She replied.

"Who's Dash?"

Suzanne sighed.

"I'll be home by midnight; late start in the office tomorrow, around noon."

"She's coming home tonight, Fred." Gibbs fluffed the couch pillows while Fred barked enthusiastically. "She's right, boy; you are a smart boy." He patted Fred's silky blonde coat. Suzanne laughed at her dog's response. "Oh, and we _will_ talk about Dasher later, Suzanne."

"Bye, Sweetie."

The President was blowing kisses.

"_Really, Mr. President?" _Suzanne whispered.

Suzanne opened the door, surprised to see that both Jethro and Fred were downstairs. Jethro met her at the entrance way.

"Hi, Jethro."

The two embraced.

"I've missed you, Sugar." He whispered.

"Oh, I've missed you too, Jethro." She replied. She placed her bags beside the couch. He scooped Suzanne into his arms, his wife yelped, giggling and surprised by the action. He flipped one switch and walked upstairs.

* * *

She was gone only a week; Jethro missed Suzanne. Waiting another half-hour for Suzanne was naught compared to the 10 days. The mood was set—dark lighting, two tapered candles and the dozen roses on the nightstand.

Suzanne became more confident. He contributed the new job with the White House as a motivator. The mental and physical exercise boosted her—nothing else. Suzanne emerged into that intellectually and sexually desirable woman who always existed. Of course, using feminine wiles was a small part of her job in obtaining what seemed best for the President (and she was good at it). When issues of foreign policy, domestic affairs were addressed, the education shone in the forefront. It was purely flirtation without physical fruition.

"Who's Dash, Suzanne?"

"Dash is the Secret Service Supervisor. He watches over me." Suzanne answered while preparing for bed. Jethro stretched on the bed covers, reading a book.

"The President…she whispered…"thinks because I'm a woman **_I_ **need security detail. Dash hangs around to keep an eye on me. He's a good guy—been with the detail 15 years…went to Georgetown too—Government."

"Is he married?" Jethro asked.

"No, but he knows I am!"

While it often concerned Jethro that Suzanne worked with all types of men, had plenty of offers, he knew for certain she remembered her wedding vows. Suzanne happily came home to her husband. Whenever Jethro seemed uneasy, she'd text, "Semper Fi, baby." She wore a small lapel pin with the globe and eagle on her lanyard, the small but meaningful indicator between her and Jethro.

"…happily married. Enough about Dash..." She came from the bathroom wearing only her oversized oxford shirt. "I'll go to the cleaners on my way to work, drop off our dress clothing." She noticed the bouquet of roses on her side.

"Thanks for the roses, Jethro." Suzanne sat beside Jethro on the bed, kissed him on the cheek.

Jethro greeted her with a long kiss, sucking slightly on her bottom lip. Suzanne was deeply involved with the kiss. "Welcome home."

She was straddled on top of Jethro, yet once again. The shirt was buttoned from the middle to the tail, the opening revealed her flesh-tone lacy bra. Her finest asset, according to Jethro were her long, well sculptured legs. They looked incredible and felt so soft to the touch.

It reminded her of the exact time a year before. She almost gave into Jethro's desire of making love.

_There was a perfectly logical explanation for Suzanne's reluctance for sitting in Jethro's lap with legs slightly opened when they dated: self-control. Jethro was an expert kisser. He touched, fondled below her stomach. Jethro was in control; she lost composure, allowing his hands to explore. Her shirt was open, pants opened. Suzanne was very aroused, indicated by her squirming in his lap. _

_Gently, he laid her on the couch. Gibbs' large hands, well-built chest comforted her. In his arms she felt safe. Suzanne was hypnotized by his eyes. She often commented the beauty of his sapphire colored eyes. It complimented the short-cropped silver hair. Immediately, her fingers played through his hair. _

_"We can take our time…" Gibbs stroked her hair, kissed her neck. "I want to know if you moan or scream." His hands caressed her soft body. Jethro mentally noted the way to arouse Suzanne with touch. Her breasts were heavy but responded to circular strokes. _

_"You have the most beautiful body…" Though not much of a talker in public, it was a different scenario just between the two. His voice stirred Suzanne's curiosities more than action. _

_"Gibbs…" Suzanne murmured. _

_"Say Jethro." With his touch was lingering kisses, the open mouth, slight tongue-flick technique. _

****_**"Jethro…"** She whispered. "Jethro, I need to go." _

Jethro Gibbs was the only lover in her life. Suzanne never imagined another. One hand was occupied, as he explored other avenues to excite his wife, to prolong their lovemaking. The first finger teased, traced out. The second finger soon joined, massage and probing inside. Her legs opened slightly more. The other hand caressed her cheek.

"Mmm…" Jethro whispered. "You've been thinking about me…"

Each time was more spectacular. She was learning more with her husband. Her eyes met his. Jethro noticed her wide eyes, rapid breathing and shivering. Suzanne was really aroused. She whispered, shivered uncontrollably, accompanied with shaking and soft moaning. Her eyes rolled back in satisfaction.

"Suzanne…" His hand stroked her back, his mouth against her neck and his voice growing husky with passion. "It's okay to…more than once." Jethro assured his young bride. Still caressing and kissing softly on the lips, cheek and forehead, he pulled Suzanne closer to his reach. Jethro finished unbuttoning the shirt. Both hands caressed each side and simply brushed the oxford shirt off her body. He kissed Suzanne on her neck, his hands caressing her back and opening her bra. Jethro's hands rested on her thigh, leading one leg to extend around his back.

Three months into the marriage, there was a slight gasp, and some physical reluctance remained once making complete connection.

"Oh, God, Susie…" Jethro kissed Suzanne softly. He stroked the pieces of hair from her eyes. Jethro's pace had unexpected surprises. He commented how good she felt. Jethro continued whispering her name. His pace was deliberately slower, teasing her.

"Oh …" Suzanne moaned. Her eyes displayed joy for such an intense feeling. It aroused Jethro even more, the fact his wife was becoming more of a willing participant. Her other leg wrapped around his back; Jethro felt her tighten around him.

"That's it, baby…" Jethro whispered. Gently, Jethro rolled Suzanne on her back, taking charge of the situation. His pace quickened. "I want you to feel me."

_"Oh, God, Jethro…"_ Suzanne moaned, suggesting by her touch, her grabs, to go faster.

"Oh, come for me, baby…" Jethro pleaded. "Please come for me…"

Of all women from his past, including Shannon, Suzanne was the less experienced lover but a quick learner. Their movement as one was coordinated, a perfect coupling. Jethro knew she was close by her quivering voice and slight curve of her back. Her uncertainty, their coupled exploration and curiosity piqued his interest. She did for Jethro, only for her husband, let go and released the rather loud and excited end.

"Susie…" Jethro's eyes widen. It was his self-control where the two shared a passionate, climatic ending. Briefly his eyes closed for a moment, his mouth opened.

Suzanne kissed him slowly and deeply, muffling his moans. Their bodies were limp, lifeless and spent after their fervent encounter. The two remained quiet, cuddling and touching another. Jethro and Suzanne, without knowing, started a future family.

* * *

It was noontime when she arrived to work. Her attire—freshly ironed jeans and sweatshirt, matching sneakers—indicated she was not necessarily 'on the floor' for answers. The day was to rearrange the official schedule, modify appointments by adding or deleting activities.

"Q…"

"Mrs. McNamara?"

"And this is my supposed day off?" Suzanne chuckled.

Suzanne truly embodied the 'Q' moniker—queries—without hesitation. She answered questions well as she asked. Soon as she walked into the office areas, staffers requested favors at once. Suzanne managing the California trip was praiseworthy. The incumbent President, who lagged behind in popularity and was a hot punch line for late night jokesters, was gaining some positive press. Suzanne coordinated with the press to release various pictures of President Owens to remind the voters why he was reelected.

The biggest concerns from the employees were answered first.

"I've mentioned several times the kids are off limits…" Suzanne reminded several junior press members. "No exceptions! That's a direct order from the President and Mrs. Owens."

She logged into her desktop computer, listening to left voice mails and reading sticky-pad notes all at the same time. Suzanne devised a unique way in separating departmental requests. Each department was color-coded. It was a great amount of work behind the scenes for a few fleeting moments on-screen. Suzanne trilled her bottom lip, halted for a moment, deciding what to carry out first.

"35 phone calls, all marked urgent." Suzanne said with an overwhelmed sigh. "15 emails, all marked urgent, and about 25 notes to sort."

"Newlywed—you've done the impossible: made the President rebound in a short time." Claudia said. "Damon would've been six months."

"Hey…it wasn't just me. This is a team effort." Suzanne remained very modest.

"The Presidential Aide's sole purpose is making him look him good, and the old man looked good." Claudia commented. Suzanne smiled, raising her thumb up.

"Hey, Q: that UCLA picture was a good move. The university called this morning, asking for more publicity."

"I'll try and arrange some basketball members to play 3 on 3 with the President." Suzanne suggested. "Hopefully, we'll get some players before March Madness."

"I'll do that." Claudia volunteered, reaching for her phone extension. "Any time good?"

"Let's try early February." Suzanne continued typing away. "We're in Europe last week of February until the second week of March. Give him about two days to recuperate from jet lag." Suzanne looked at Claudia's direction.

"Hey…thanks, Claudia."

Suzanne plugged into the communication system, placing the headpiece microphone on that connected to the switchboard. She typed rapidly when two more staff members came to her desk. While one questioned the schedule, the other staffer delivered a package requiring Suzanne's signature.

"Q—can he see me today?"

"Thank you, Sweetie…and no, he cannot see you today." Suzanne signed, filed the package and looked directly at the person. A temporary paper sign was on her desk—_Suzanne D. McNamara._

"Just 10 minutes, Q, please?"

She remained firm in the answer. "I will call by end of business to arrange 10 minutes next week."

Linda tossed an actual newspaper with the headline "Non-Negotiable Bill of Goods."

"Spoke to Gallop poll—65." Linda informed. "…General consensus: relaxed and well-focused. You're a hit, Suzanne."

"Well, I appreciate the confidence." Suzanne continued sorting, clicking on the keyboard. Her direct line trilled.

"Mrs. Gibbs."

_"I need to see you, Q." _The President was in the library, his voice loud enough for Suzanne to hear. "It's about next week and the European junket."

"I'm on my way, Sir." Her voice carried into the library area. Suzanne grabbed her needed items for a President Owens session—tablet computer, paper-bound calendar, a composition book and pen—and walked towards the library.


	3. Jog

Jethro was excited for Suzanne's return from California. It was the first time in their young marriage they were apart. It was also Jethro's first experience as an 'awaiting spouse.' He returned home at 6 to check on Fred. The phone rang while in the backyard; Suzanne was at a military airfield.

"I'm on Air Force One." Suzanne shared. "We're waiting for clearance."

"Tired?"

"We've had a full week." She mumbled. Jethro heard other voices in her cellphone, with Suzanne giving specific instructions, answering pertinent questions for the rest of the staff.

_"Hi, Agent Gibbs! Your wife is Lady One!"_

"That was the President." She replied, chuckling. "He's calling me Lady One because of the way I handled UCLA."

"Hell, he should love it!" Jethro chuckled, both he and Fred returned inside. "I caught the speech on campus. He looked good!"

_"Tell him, Q."_

"Well, we have about two weeks off before our next trip." It meant she was home for two weeks, working semi-regular hours. Of course, she was added for the trip with Damon and Dash, the Secret Service supervisor. "I'll tell you more about it when I get home."

"Do you need a ride?" Jethro asked.

"Actually, Dash is giving me a ride." She replied.

"Who's Dash?"

Suzanne sighed.

"I'll be home by midnight; late start in the office tomorrow, around noon."

"She's coming home tonight, Fred." Gibbs fluffed the couch pillows while Fred barked enthusiastically. "She's right, boy; you are a smart boy." He patted Fred's silky blonde coat. Suzanne laughed at her dog's response. "Oh, and we _will_ talk about Dasher later, Suzanne."

"Bye, Sweetie."

The President was blowing kisses.

"_Really, Mr. President?" _Suzanne whispered.

Suzanne opened the door, surprised to see that both Jethro and Fred were downstairs. Jethro met her at the entrance way.

"Hi, Jethro."

The two embraced.

"I've missed you, Sugar." He whispered.

"Oh, I've missed you too, Jethro." She replied. She placed her bags beside the couch. He scooped Suzanne into his arms, his wife yelped, giggling and surprised by the action. He flipped one switch and walked upstairs.

* * *

She was gone only a week; Jethro missed Suzanne. Waiting another half-hour for Suzanne was naught compared to the 10 days. The mood was set—dark lighting, two tapered candles and the dozen roses on the nightstand.

Suzanne became more confident. He contributed the new job with the White House as a motivator. The mental and physical exercise boosted her—nothing else. Suzanne emerged into that intellectually and sexually desirable woman who always existed. Of course, using feminine wiles was a small part of her job in obtaining what seemed best for the President (and she was good at it). When issues of foreign policy, domestic affairs were addressed, the education shone in the forefront. It was purely flirtation without physical fruition.

"Who's Dash, Suzanne?"

"Dash is the Secret Service Supervisor. He watches over me." Suzanne answered while preparing for bed. Jethro stretched on the bed covers, reading a book.

"The President…she whispered…"thinks because I'm a woman **_I_**need security detail. Dash hangs around to keep an eye on me. He's a good guy—been with the detail 15 years…went to Georgetown too—Government."

"Is he married?" Jethro asked.

"No, but he knows I am!"

While it often concerned Jethro that Suzanne worked with all types of men, had plenty of offers, he knew for certain she remembered her wedding vows. Suzanne happily came home to her husband. Whenever Jethro seemed uneasy, she'd text, "Semper Fi, baby." She wore a small lapel pin with the globe and eagle on her lanyard, the small but meaningful indicator between her and Jethro.

"…happily married. Enough about Dash..." She came from the bathroom wearing only her oversized oxford shirt. "I'll go to the cleaners on my way to work, drop off our dress clothing." She noticed the bouquet of roses on her side.

"Thanks for the roses, Jethro." Suzanne sat beside Jethro on the bed, kissed him on the cheek.

Jethro greeted her with a long kiss, sucking slightly on her bottom lip. Suzanne was deeply involved with the kiss. "Welcome home."

She was straddled on top of Jethro, yet once again. The shirt was buttoned from the middle to the tail, the opening revealed her flesh-tone lacy bra. Her finest asset, according to Jethro were her long, well sculptured legs. They looked incredible and felt so soft to the touch.

It reminded her of the exact time a year before. She almost gave into Jethro's desire of making love.

_There was a perfectly logical explanation for Suzanne's reluctance for sitting in Jethro's lap with legs slightly opened when they dated: self-control. Jethro was an expert kisser. He touched, fondled below her stomach. Jethro was in control; she lost composure, allowing his hands to explore. Her shirt was open, pants opened. Suzanne was very aroused, indicated by her squirming in his lap._

_Gently, he laid her on the couch. Gibbs' large hands, well-built chest comforted her. In his arms she felt safe. Suzanne was hypnotized by his eyes. She often commented the beauty of his sapphire colored eyes. It complimented the short-cropped silver hair. Immediately, her fingers played through his hair._

_"We can take our time…" Gibbs stroked her hair, kissed her neck. "I want to know if you moan or scream." His hands caressed her soft body. Jethro mentally noted the way to arouse Suzanne with touch. Her breasts were heavy but responded to circular strokes._

_"You have the most beautiful body…" Though not much of a talker in public, it was a different scenario just between the two. His voice stirred Suzanne's curiosities more than action._

_"Gibbs…" Suzanne murmured._

_"Say Jethro." With his touch was lingering kisses, the open mouth, slight tongue-flick technique._

_**"Jethro…"**__ She whispered. "Jethro, I need to go."_

Jethro Gibbs was the only lover in her life. Suzanne never imagined another. One hand was occupied, as he explored other avenues to excite his wife, to prolong their lovemaking. The first finger teased, traced out. The second finger soon joined, massage and probing inside. Her legs opened slightly more. The other hand caressed her cheek.

"Mmm…" Jethro whispered. "You've been thinking about me…"

Each time was more spectacular. She was learning more with her husband. Her eyes met his. Jethro noticed her wide eyes, rapid breathing and shivering. Suzanne was really aroused. She whispered, shivered uncontrollably, accompanied with shaking and soft moaning. Her eyes rolled back in satisfaction.

"Suzanne…" His hand stroked her back, his mouth against her neck and his voice growing husky with passion. "It's okay to…more than once." Jethro assured his young bride. Still caressing and kissing softly on the lips, cheek and forehead, he pulled Suzanne closer to his reach. Jethro finished unbuttoning the shirt. Both hands caressed each side and simply brushed the oxford shirt off her body. He kissed Suzanne on her neck, his hands caressing her back and opening her bra. Jethro's hands rested on her thigh, leading one leg to extend around his back.

Three months into the marriage, there was a slight gasp, and some physical reluctance remained once making complete connection.

"Oh, God, Susie…" Jethro kissed Suzanne softly. He stroked the pieces of hair from her eyes. Jethro's pace had unexpected surprises. He commented how good she felt. Jethro continued whispering her name. His pace was deliberately slower, teasing her.

"Oh …" Suzanne moaned. Her eyes displayed joy for such an intense feeling. It aroused Jethro even more, the fact his wife was becoming more of a willing participant. Her other leg wrapped around his back; Jethro felt her tighten around him.

"That's it, baby…" Jethro whispered. Gently, Jethro rolled Suzanne on her back, taking charge of the situation. His pace quickened. "I want you to feel me."

_"Oh, God, Jethro…"_ Suzanne moaned, suggesting by her touch, her grabs, to go faster.

"Oh, come for me, baby…" Jethro pleaded. "Please come for me…"

Of all women from his past, including Shannon, Suzanne was the less experienced lover but a quick learner. Their movement as one was coordinated, a perfect coupling. Jethro knew she was close by her quivering voice and slight curve of her back. Her uncertainty, their coupled exploration and curiosity piqued his interest. She did for Jethro, only for her husband, let go and released the rather loud and excited end.

"Susie…" Jethro's eyes widen. It was his self-control where the two shared a passionate, climatic ending. Briefly his eyes closed for a moment, his mouth opened.

Suzanne kissed him slowly and deeply, muffling his moans. Their bodies were limp, lifeless and spent after their fervent encounter. The two remained quiet, cuddling and touching another. Jethro and Suzanne, without knowing, started a future family.

* * *

It was noontime when she arrived to work. Her attire—freshly ironed jeans and sweatshirt, matching sneakers—indicated she was not necessarily 'on the floor' for answers. The day was to rearrange the official schedule, modify appointments by adding or deleting activities.

"Q…"

"Mrs. McNamara?"

"And this is my supposed day off?" Suzanne chuckled.

Suzanne truly embodied the 'Q' moniker—queries—without hesitation. She answered questions well as she asked. Soon as she walked into the office areas, staffers requested favors at once. Suzanne managing the California trip was praiseworthy. The incumbent President, who lagged behind in popularity and was a hot punch line for late night jokesters, was gaining some positive press. Suzanne coordinated with the press to release various pictures of President Owens to remind the voters why he was reelected.

The biggest concerns from the employees were answered first.

"I've mentioned several times the kids are off limits…" Suzanne reminded several junior press members. "No exceptions! That's a direct order from the President and Mrs. Owens."

She logged into her desktop computer, listening to left voice mails and reading sticky-pad notes all at the same time. Suzanne devised a unique way in separating departmental requests. Each department was color-coded. It was a great amount of work behind the scenes for a few fleeting moments on-screen. Suzanne trilled her bottom lip, halted for a moment, deciding what to carry out first.

"35 phone calls, all marked urgent." Suzanne said with an overwhelmed sigh. "15 emails, all marked urgent, and about 25 notes to sort."

"Newlywed—you've done the impossible: made the President rebound in a short time." Claudia said. "Damon would've been six months."

"Hey…it wasn't just me. This is a team effort." Suzanne remained very modest.

"The Presidential Aide's sole purpose is making him look him good, and the old man looked good." Claudia commented. Suzanne smiled, raising her thumb up.

"Hey, Q: that UCLA picture was a good move. The university called this morning, asking for more publicity."

"I'll try and arrange some basketball members to play 3 on 3 with the President." Suzanne suggested. "Hopefully, we'll get some players before March Madness."

"I'll do that." Claudia volunteered, reaching for her phone extension. "Any time good?"

"Let's try early February." Suzanne continued typing away. "We're in Europe last week of February until the second week of March. Give him about two days to recuperate from jet lag." Suzanne looked at Claudia's direction.

"Hey…thanks, Claudia."

Suzanne plugged into the communication system, placing the headpiece microphone on that connected to the switchboard. She typed rapidly when two more staff members came to her desk. While one questioned the schedule, the other staffer delivered a package requiring Suzanne's signature.

"Q—can he see me today?"

"Thank you, Sweetie…and no, he cannot see you today." Suzanne signed, filed the package and looked directly at the person. A temporary paper sign was on her desk—_Suzanne D. McNamara._

"Just 10 minutes, Q, please?"

She remained firm in the answer. "I will call by end of business to arrange 10 minutes next week."

Linda tossed an actual newspaper with the headline "Non-Negotiable Bill of Goods."

"Spoke to Gallop poll—65." Linda informed. "…General consensus: relaxed and well-focused. You're a hit, Suzanne."

"Well, I appreciate the confidence." Suzanne continued sorting, clicking on the keyboard. Her direct line trilled.

"Mrs. Gibbs."

_"I need to see you, Q." _The President was in the library, his voice loud enough for Suzanne to hear. "It's about next week and the European junket."

"I'm on my way, Sir." Her voice carried into the library area. Suzanne grabbed her needed items for a President Owens session—tablet computer, paper-bound calendar, a composition book and pen—and walked towards the library.


	4. Pace

The President was scheduled for two weeks in Western Europe. The first leg of their tour they spent in Scandinavia. As the corps settled into their suites, Suzanne learned her belongings were lost in transit. Clothes, according to her, were easy to replace. It was discovered that her clothing was in Helsinki, confused with other materials.

Technology made it possible to browse, purchase and pickup. She liked Evans, shopped there while in Oxford years ago. Within five minutes, she purchased two dresses and a small jacket. An associate dropped off her purchase at the lobby.

"I'm going to try on my new dress." She informed the President, turning her computer tablet. "I needed an outfit."

"You still owe me 4 miles." The President reminded. He and Suzanne scheduled to take a run but postponed it until her luggage made it.

On her I-Pod was a mixture of old school music. She stumbled across a song that seemed to describe her newfound confidence associated with her position:_'Sophisticated Lady.' _ The tune coincided with the new outfit, new job title.

**_Everyone knows how she got her name, yeah…_**

Suzanne Gibbs became a reluctant role model for women and young girls because of the dress. She was irritated once the flashbulbs popped…and her name called in frenzy that winter afternoon in London.

Tim McGee noticed his boss' wife on the 24 hour news channel. The glimpse of her behind the President of the United States was not unusual. The story featuring only Suzanne Gibbs, however, was completely a surprise.

"Boss, _Suzanne_ is a featured story." Tim adjusted the volume from his chair. Jethro focused his attention onto the wide screen, flashing the term "Fashion Icon?"

**"The President's aide, Suzanne Gibbs, had this to say…"** The reporter began and an image of Suzanne, dressed in a black sleeveless, mock turtleneck maxi dress and gray jacket appeared on the screen.

_"'I purchased the dress at Evans, because my clothes were misplaced during transit…I had the shoes on hand, yes I did…No, I don't think of myself as a fashion icon. Are you kidding?!" _The reporters chuckled to her eyebrow raise, slight lighthearted voice. She did wear the high-heeled steppers, a red wedge heel to compliment her clutch bag.

_ "I liked the dress, I bought it, and I wore it. End of story.'"_

The flashbulbs popped, reporters screaming additional questions.

_ "'Really?! We're having this conversation? Please focus on both President Owens and the Prime Minister's messages regarding the Global Initiative, instead of what I'm wearing onstage. Both presented very insight viewpoints regarding our planet. Thank you.'" _

"Classic Suzanne…" Gibbs chuckled. He continued watching the newscast, noticing the way her outfit accentuated her curves, how it flowed as she moved. The cameras rolled, pictures taken of the two drafting last-minute notes. Suzanne's glasses were off, her eyes lined with a smoky gray eyeliner to appear larger. The hair, wavy, was perfectly wrapped around her earlobe with a wispy side bang covered her left eye. She left with Evelyn, a junior aide and several other Secret Service agents.

"She will not feed into that nonsense."

_ "Oh, damn!"_ Tony commented as he glanced at the screen. "Is that _Mrs. _Gibbs?"

"She works out with the President four times a week…" Jethro replied. "She has a nice body."

"When she gets bored with you..." Tobias Fornell glanced on-screen at his friend's wife, shaking his head approvingly and giving a wolf whistle. It was common knowledge Tobias and Jethro share Diane, an ex-wife. Jethro gave him the stare—the piercing look of seriousness, the unspoken 'you've crossed the line' look.

"You're not her type."

Jethro smiled when Suzanne appeared on the screen again. He dialed his cellphone and patiently waited for the receiving call to respond.

"Hello, Sweetie." Suzanne greeted.

"Nice dress, Suz."

"Jethro…" Suzanne whispered. She leaned on the Presidential limo, waiting for the President. One foot was placed inside, the other on the ground. "I swear! That dumb cameraman from ZNN…I didn't realize…"

"…that DiNozzo, Tobias and the entire free world will forever call you 'First Hottie?'"

"The wrong bags were sent! Half of _my_ clothes are in Brussels, Helsinki…hell who knows?! At least his are with us."

"No need to explain." Jethro chuckled. "You look very, very nice."

Suzanne smiled, took a deep breath, finally sat inside the limo.

"Will you wear that LBD when you come home?"

"Not for long…" Suzanne muttered, snickering. "I'll be home in another week…"

The President emerged and sat beside Suzanne. "I need to discuss that at a later time, okay?"

"He's around, isn't he?"

"Say hello to your husband for me, Q." The President said.

"Jethro, I will speak with you later." Suzanne's voice hesitated from embarrassment. Before she could disconnect, the President grabbed her phone.

"Jethro, did you see what your wife was wearing?" The President continued.

"Would you please…?!" Suzanne laughed.

"I know…risqué for a press conference, wasn't it?" When Suzanne finally got her phone, it was silent.

"The line disconnected soon as I grabbed it." The President replied. "Gotcha!"

"How many days until we get back to Washington?" Suzanne moaned.

* * *

"The camera loves you."

Jethro smiled, even beamed with pride. His happiness was a result of Suzanne's sudden popularity. The two shared a phone conversation. In London, 5 hours later, but still working hours for Special Agent Gibbs, he wanted to speak with his wife.

"I didn't expect…" Suzanne stretched across the bed, head resting on the pillow. She smiled coyly, tilted her head.

"You're tilting your head."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Gibbs chuckled. "You do that whenever someone compliments you."

"So…I guess I should wear more dresses on the road?" Suzanne inquired.

"Not like that one."

The two laughed.

"Besides…" Jethro continued. "I'd like to know I'm the only one who knows your body on an intimate basis."

"You _are_ the only one…" Suzanne whispered. "And in four days, you will be reintroduced."

"I love you, Suzanne." Jethro said.

"I love you too." Suzanne yawned, concluded their conversation.

* * *

"Yeah, Mrs. Gibbs."

They called her…Mrs. Gibbs! The President sensed distraction from his aide. It was 04:30 when he called her suite.

"Good Morning, Sunshine! Let's go for a run."

"I…I need to run it by Secret Service." She groggily responded.

"Dash is giving the okay. He's with me."

"Is it morning or afternoon?" Suzanne fumbled for her glasses. "Oh…" She noticed 04:40. "I don't have all my gear." She remembered.

"Look in front of the door." She climbed out of bed and for the door. Her small bag was sitting at the front.

"Your bag came in late last night."

"10 minutes, Q." The President said and then disconnected.

"Damn!" Suzanne growled.

"We hear you."

"Well, hear this!" Suzanne slammed the suite door.

Suzanne was ready within 10 minutes, meeting with the President in a secured lobby area.

"The usual?" Suzanne asked. The usual was 3 miles.

"We'll do this without the Press Corps and without **_these_**." The President yanked her headphones. "We need to talk, Gibbs."

"I'm not too much for conversation, Mr. President." Suzanne looked agitated. "Please, let's go for our run."

Suzanne's beginning pace was hard, which threw off the President. She usually began conservatively, a light jog to keep pace with the faster running boss. Her speed was a 9, 9 ½ minutes for a single mile. Suzanne began and continued strong, clocking in at 7.

"Are you running the 440 today?"

"I wasn't expecting to live in a fish bowl too." Suzanne said.

"You're a woman doing a supposed man's job…" The President used the air quotation. "Dresses, high-heeled steppers, and the right touch of makeup…the world noticed."

The President chuckled as she looked annoyed. He continued with a daring suggestion.

"Give them what they want, Q. Have Daisy arrange a ZNN exclusive interview while here in England."

Suzanne stopped in mid-stride.

"Mr. President, _you_ are the focus, not your aide." She responded to his idea. "Besides, I want people to know I'm competent, not just a pretty face or your 'yes' woman."

"It's the only way the press will leave you alone." Members of the Secret Service nodded in agreement. "Besides, it can be good exposure for your career. You will move onto bigger endeavors—Madame Counselor."

* * *

Suzanne sighed, agreed non-verbally to the interview for the sake of sanity. The President wanted to visit Oxford, about a two hour drive from London. Suzanne was familiar with the town due to her study-abroad experience. Daisy arranged the interview and briefed the President. He in turn, briefed the aide on the interviewing process.

She said very little, just "Good Morning" and "Hello." Suzanne read notes, jotted additional notations on her tablet, and reminded the President to call Kay and the children at 20:00 hours, London time.

"They're going to follow you around for photo-opportunities, to give an inside look of your position." The President shared with Suzanne as the entourage stepped into their building. With a simple finger, the Secret Service detail requested the camera off, leaving the two alone in conversation. The latter part of the President's comments surprised and comforted Suzanne.

"I stated to the network not to ask embarrassing or personal questions. I will be available to keep them true to their word. It's a dual interview."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Suzanne rode in the primary vehicle with the President, Dash, and a camera person.

_ "What are the songs for today?"_ Dash noticed the head bop while reading documents.

_"Lenny Kravitz, some Culture Club, Duran Duran. I selected two of each—high and low energy." _The playlist was for the next three mile run; she was in charge of music.

"She enjoys all types of music." The President added. "If I were to classify her musical taste, I would say Classic R&B, Classic Rock, and obviously, her New Wave. The I-Pods are filled with different genres; sometimes, it will be weeks before the song is repeated."

The cameraman tried to ask questions during the drive.

"Are you always focused on your job?"

"Yes." Suzanne replied.

"What is your life after work hours?"

"That is personal."

Dash, the Secret Service agent, assisted with some additional information.

"Suzanne—rather Mrs. Gibbs—is heavily committed to the Wounded Warrior Project and Habitat for Humanity." He answered. "Her motto is to do, not talk."

The group finally reached the destination. Suzanne, the President and Dash all walked together, the cameraman keeping in stride.

"Suzanne, I need you to get the Press Corps on the same page…"

"Yes, Mr. President." The camera was intrusive.

"Listen, my personal life is strictly off limits for an on-air discussion. I am more than willing to discuss my qualifications, job description, some nuisances that come with the post, and perhaps who influences my clothing style. That's all I will _politely_ answer. Otherwise, I will stop this interview and leave."

Suzanne's microphone was live. The camera was on, meaning her short soliloquy was saved for prosperity.

"Your mike was on." Dash informed.

"I don't care." Suzanne replied. "Sometimes, you have to set the tone."

"Mrs. Gibbs, I will respect your wishes." She extended her hand. Suzanne shook vigorously and smiled. "Just relax and be yourself."

"Trust me, I have been myself today…" Suzanne retorted.

"You have a very nice smile."

"Thank you, but I'm still not commenting any more about my personal life." Suzanne laughed, smiled, even covering her hand over her mouth.

"Oh…you are married?" It was a valid question. The camera lights reflected from Suzanne's engagement and wedding bands.

Suzanne smiled. "I'm happily married. "My husband and I are very private people. We'd wish to remain that way."

"So…no additional information about you and…?"

"You're very persistent, aren't you? Listen, the stressors associated with this position are challenging enough. I don't wish to discuss my personal life."

"It seems that you are very committed to both your personal and professional life, but you keep a definitive line between the two worlds." The reporter commented.

"It is important to have privacy and a life outside your work while your outside life remains away from the job…questions about my husband are off limits."

Her cellphone chimed. Suzanne excused, distanced herself further away from the cameras, the microphone as she accepted the call. All was heard was "Hi." She smiled throughout the phone call, which the cameras captured.

The finished copy was spectacular. In fact, it pleased Suzanne. The theme song of her life with the White House, "Always on the Run" played in the background as an introduction.

_But I'm always on the run_

_(But I'm always on the run)_

_But I'm always on the run  
(Oh, run)  
But I'm always on the run  
(Always on the run)  
But I'm always on the run _

"Try and keep up with me." Suzanne warned. Wearing her running clothing, Suzanne began her jog, without the President, only a member from Secret Service detail. "See ya later." The camera could not keep up; she was pretty fast.

Throughout the voice over, various pictures of her—at work, even with NCIS, speaking at Georgetown's Commencement, personal ones from the White House, like sitting at her desk, or standing in the doorway speaking with the President were used.

It was a voice-over, explaining how Suzanne became a "surrogate little sister" to the President and Mrs. Owens. The President smiled, chuckled when responding about the impact of her appointment.

"My wife recommended changing the cultural landscape of the White House by hiring a female aide. They met in the corridor after the initial interview, literally bumping into one another! Kay said two things convincing me to hire Suzanne. She admired her manners and originality. Suzanne pays attention a great amount of detail. She is extremely focused, sometimes unyielding, inflexible, and confrontational but it is for a larger vision."

The second part of her interview was formal, with Suzanne in career attire, sitting very tall and looking the part of Presidential Aide.

"Speaking of originality, Mrs. Gibbs, let's discuss your style."

Suzanne laughed. "What style and flair?! I select pieces that are comfortable and interject some of my quirkiness into the wardrobe like sneakers, neckties, and scarves. I'd like for my body of work to qualify as style and flair."

"Understandable." The reporter nodded. "It seems you are annoyed."

"Not annoyed, Holly." Suzanne said, smiled. "I think there are more important, more pressing issues than showing my shoulders or wearing a dress and heeled shoes. The dress heard around the world! Anyway, that's not a Presidential concern or an issue for the American people or international audiences—my wardrobe. It's a nice diversion."

"Well, it showed people that you are in good shape."

"The dress was the only option I had, because my other clothing bags were in transit!" Suzanne sighed. "I went to Evans to buy the dress and tights—probably the last time I will have an opportunity to go anywhere incognito."

"Thinking of political office, Mrs. Gibbs?"

"Not at all!" Suzanne laughed."I'm a licensed lawyer and plan to devote my degree and expertise to community and activism cases pro-bono once I finish my time at the White House. The only reason I agreed to the interview was to finally put the Suzanne Gibbs interest behind me once and for all."

"So let's talk about your credentials, your responsibilities with the office." The reporter began. I've done the research on you and your different transitions through life..." The reporter nodded, as everyday conversations, activities with the White House intertwined with photos from her days with the White House. "Willing to share?"

"I have a Bachelor's degree in Government from William and Mary and a joint Master of Public Policy and Juris Doctor from Georgetown University. I am originally from Southeastern Virginia—that's where I call my home due to my father's military career. I lived in Virginia for the past 15 years, moved there in eighth grade. I have lived in Washington for the past 6 years…Before my career with the President, I served in the Peace Corps, came back to study at Georgetown and worked for NCIS as a craft-services supervisor."

"What is a typical day for you with the President?"

"It all depends. My official title is Presidential Aide. I am the person who creates and revises the President's schedule. I work in conjunction with the Scheduling and Press Departments. Sometimes, I'm typing memos to others, checking and rechecking facts and figures. I attend the personal and professional needs of the President. That is my official job title."

"Personal needs?"

"Clarification…" Suzanne detailed with specific examples. "I make sure the President has gum, his work tablet with information, help with the I-Pod music selections, pens and most of all, pictures of his family. I fill in when the President needs a third for a basketball game or a jogging partner. We take turns in selecting musical themes for the day. We often take a run together, just to clear our heads."

The interviewer shared a hard copy on camera, where Suzanne laughed, thinking of the origin of the photo.

"Is that off limits?"

"No, of course not." Suzanne responded. "I'm proud of my association with the Peace Corps. In fact, I plan to revisit the area, spend several weeks teaching history at the community school within the next year or two." Suzanne smiled, her hands gently touching the picture of the community elders.

"That photo was of me with the sewing circle—_Edredones para la paz_. Our community created quilts for fair trade with profits towards the education program. Every stitch, every color and symbol relates to the rich history of Central American culture. One of the valuable lessons I learned in life—sewing."I hope you allow me to take this with me. It brings back very fond memories."

"So traveling is second nature to you?" Suzanne nodded affirmatively.

"Well, it certainly makes a person humble." Suzanne replied. "While at William and Mary, I spent a semester in Oxford-Hertford College. That's how I maneuvered away from the cameras during the run! I went on walks and learned my way around Oxford."

The clip of Suzanne running away from the cameras was shown during the interview.

The interviewer found a picture of a 20 year old Suzanne in the lawn, sketchpad and all.

"England is a second home to you?"

"I love it!"

"Mr. President…" The reporter smiled, seemed surprised at his presence. "Obviously, Mrs. Gibbs has lengthy qualifications as your aide. What else convinced you to hire Mrs. Gibbs?"

"Suzanne is an over-qualified candidate for the office, but I have learned very quickly to utilize all her talents. She is a wonderful employee—fiercely loyal, dedicated, and an asset to the American people. Suzanne—Mrs. Gibbs—is also very modest, always, always emphasizing the team spirit."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Suzanne responded.


End file.
